The Child

Weak and weary this child lifts his head

Peering out at you through dirt matted hair

This youthful, innocent visage

Should be unblemished, hopeful, full of smiles

From ear to ear

But it is not to be

For this child has seen horrors that cannot

Be described by the written word alone

They must be lived, experienced to be known

The rough, dirt caked skin is marked with cuts and scars

Thin shaking hands reach out to you

From within the folds of a tattered rag

Yet a passing glance locks your eyes with his

And somehow, despite the horror

Despite the terrible things this child has witnessed

Those cobalt eyes burn brighter than any fire ever shall

For trapped within this world weary body

Flies the soul of a brave, hopeful child